


To The Unwavering

by Sopranope



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Implied Relationships, Insanity, M/M, oh so mediocre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sopranope/pseuds/Sopranope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it were possible to experience death without the cessation of life, then, I should think, that experience should be reserved for only the most tortured and condemned of souls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Unwavering

**Author's Note:**

> wow ok mediocre story??? this isn't even that good forgive me oh no ok so the purpose of this was to be somewhat of a character study but then it just turned into a steaming pile of doodoo there's hardly any LieuMon at all gosh darn it

If it were possible to experience death without the cessation of life, then, I should think, that experience should be reserved for only the most tortured and condemned of souls.

Perhaps that is why I’m here.

You see, there was once this...man, I suppose you would say, who inhabited every corner of my existence. He was my Messiah. I was his faithful apostle, bound to him, enamored by him. It could have been love, had we been two completely different people. But not us. 

Amon. That was his name. 

I followed him blindly, believing he would lead me to somewhere greater than what I had. Funny thing is, I had no idea what I had. I was Lieu, I was a young man with nowhere to go and absolutely no reserves left to doubt this man I saw as perfect. It is beyond my ability to fathom what, exactly, he saw in me. But he took to me and lead me along regardless.

Soon we were equals. He saw me as an ally, no longer a pawn to be shaped to his liking. I had his respect. We had a bond, I should say. An odd, dysfunctional, bond that was ripped at a few seams, but to an outsider it could have seemed like some sort of positive relationship. Maybe I even thought I loved him. 

My, that was a terribly long time ago.

More recently, Amon had found himself fixated on the young Avatar Korra. All of his time was spent plotting, obsessing. How to capture her. How to manipulate her. Take away her bending, reduce her to the level of the common man. To my level, rather.

I hated her. I hated that insufferable bender with all of my being. Here I am, watching Amon spiral into his infatuation with this bender, thinking that de-powering her will solve all of our problems and promote our cause. Korra was young, Korra was stupid, Korra was bound to make mistakes, Amon would say. The Equalist movement was suffering until she came around, all full of idealism and ignorance. She was what Amon needed. This little girl was what Amon needed, and not me. Petty jealousy that was pushed aside. I could not be detrimental to his vision.

Ironic how Republic City did not need the Avatar while the very person who has sworn to eliminate her power did. I have only realized this now. 

At any rate, I still served Amon in whatever way I could, ravishing the sensation when it came to attempting to destroy her. Of course, I never succeeded. I’m assuming I was never intended to. Amon would always take me to the side, grab me by my shoulders, and reassure me that this was not the time, Lieutenant. That fate apparently had something to do with death.

One day, mere days after mine and Korra’s first little squabble, Amon came in to speak to me while I was occupying myself with training.

“My faithful Lieutenant.” It was a statement, rather than a greeting.

“Sir, I- yes, what do you need of me?” I turned, wiping sweat from my brow. I had been at it since I was able to stand without vomiting. Not very long, but it felt like an eternity when one was recovering from his concussion. 

I would certainly love to do much, much worse to that little wench.

Amon was silent for a moment. I believe he locked his gaze with mine, although his mask obscured most eye movement.

“Do I have your undying loyalty, Lieutenant? Do I know, without a doubt, that you should follow me without question? Is your purpose to serve only me?” This had taken me aback. It wasn’t that Amon was insecure about his followers honesty and devotion, like some schoolgirl with her friends. No, he didn’t want reassurance, I realize that now.

“I- of course, sir. If you are to know one thing as absolute truth in this lifetime, it is that I should never, ever stray from your leadership.” Laying it on thick, Lieutenant. But, he did have that iron grasp on people. One that took a very, very strong person to escape form.

Obviously, I was far from strong.

“Good. We’re about to witness a war, Lieutenant. I just hope you have no doubts about which side is just,” Could he have smiled? He leaned in so close there. “...and which will see justice.”

He then gave my shoulder a brisk pat, and walked away without another sound. I thought nothing of it at the time. Amon was cryptic. Amon could never even figure himself out, and he surely did not expect anybody else to.

Until, of course, he at last came face-to-face with his brother. I was unaware, at the time, that councilman Tarrlok and Amon were siblings. I found it odd how I was never present when Amon was interviewing him, or how he would refuse to speak to anyone for hours after their meetings. I tried not to think anything of it. Tarrlok was, of course, the epitome of the bender that Amon hated. Tarrlok wasn’t Korra, though. Amon still did not have enough. 

To put it on the record, I must say that Amon was human and still felt emotions. We both pretended to be oblivious to that matter, but almost two decades of listening to him cry in his sleep was rather...surreal. Amon would never “confide” in me as a normal human would describe it, but I did allow myself pleasure in knowing that he knew I knew that sometimes his foundation would crack. Just a little, tiny bit. I should have realized it the second we both came face-to-face with Tarrlok that something about that man had a deep-rooted effect on Amon; something way beyond being a manipulative, waterbending bastard.

Then, finally, we were this close to capturing the Avatar and winning this struggle. We had the Air nomads under lock-and-key. I tried to ignore the fact that we were harming children and remind myself that I had long stopped caring.

Amon had that sort of effect on me, I suppose.

That isn’t to say that they didn’t put up a struggle. No, even that young bald monkey gave us all a bit of trouble, flying this way and that. However, I do believe I succeeded when I had the little one in a chokehold, with one of my kali sticks pressed against his temple.

Tenzin dropped to his knees in defeat. I made myself think that was pathetic and weak of him.

I allowed the crying monkey boy to run back to his father, after which my subordinates chained the four airbenders and lead them to our makeshift prison. I stood, watching them march, drinking in the moment. 

Amon appeared behind me, giving me quite a fright.

“Pardon me, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to scare you. Although, I should chastise you for not keeping constant vigilance.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was my fault. Is there something you wish to ask of me?”

“Yes. Yes, there certainly is. I would simply like to congratulate you and ask you to stand beside me for the purification of this wretched family.” I’ll admit, with great shame, that this made me almost giddy with pride; this leads us back to our schoolgirl analogy. I wondered to what purpose he had to praise me so. For some reason, this felt...different. Different than the other purification ceremonies. Something deeper, something with closure, something like an ultimatum.

No. No, everything Amon did had to have a purpose. He was simply further asserting his power over Republic City by practically executing one of its dear, beloved leaders. He wanted me, the only man he ever saw as equal, to stand beside him.

“You have served me well, Lieutenant. You were certainly a necessity in my cause, and your support has granted me strength when I knew nothing of it. I would be honored to have you be apart of the total eradication of those impure airbenders.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even begin to question the past tense, begin to wonder if after all of this went underway he would no longer need me. All I knew is that kind words from Amon were a rare occurrence, and I certainly wasn’t going to let that moment go to waste. I bowed, replying that my honor at his request was far too great to measure.

He gave a curt nod, and then walked off. 

Rarely did I ever have the chance to smile. But today? Today was an excellent day. We could almost taste the Avatar within our grasp, and we were this close to ridding the world of that vile airbending. Amon even seemed to have a spring in his step, although one would not notice that unless he took to observing him for about twenty years. 

Standing, out on stage, I felt glorious. This was a turning point. We could very well spread this across the nations, him and I. Only us. Together. 

That notion filled me with a sense of euphoria. Who would ever have imagined that after these long years of struggle and hardships, I’d be standing beside the man I lo- admired, who brought me to where I am today? We were the beginning of a new age. 

I hadn’t felt that way since I was a young man. A young man with nothing but Amon. Really, that didn’t change at all, and who’s to say that it ever would?

According to Amon, fate. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

But of course, that wretched watertribe brat had to barge in with her street rat boyfriend and ruin everything. 

I had readied myself to attack her, but then she began shouting complete nonsense that stopped everyone in their tracks.

Bloodbending. Tarrlok. Yakone. All nonsense. 

“An amusing tale,” declared Amon, “but I will show you the truth.”

I am loathe to admit how frightened I became, with bile rising up my throat and sweat saturating my palms. 

I am also loathe to admit how relieved (and nearly ecstatic with infatuation) I was when Amon’s mask was lifted off his face. He was every bit as beautiful as I had spent many nights imagining him to be- but that is another tale. His scarred mouth curled into a sneer, superior and complacent, as he revealed himself to the world.

“This is what a firebender did to me!” The crowd was infuriated. Avatar Korra, direct reincarnation of the humble and honest Avatar Aang, was a filthy liar. Despite the outcry, the impertinent brat and her impoverished loverboy propelled themselves toward the stage. 

I might have experienced a bit of inconvenience as that Mako boy carelessly struck me with his vile bending prowess, but we’re disregarding the technicalities.  
I had landed just so to where I could not properly stand without making my way back to the floor. Hardly one of my worst injuries, but quite humiliating all the same. Amon joined me soon after, landing with much more finesse than I could have ever managed.

“Lieutenant!” He cried. He ushered me to my feet and sat me down on an overturn stool.

“You’re hurt. Stay here and do not get in my way, do you understand? The Avatar is mine.” I peered at him from underneath my brow.

“Of course, sir. Don’t worry about me, I’m a grown m-” he had left before I even finished my sentence. Of course any smart man would think twice about getting between Amon and his ardency towards his cause- I, however, was not rendered completely intellectual at the moment.

I still had a bit of trouble stabling myself as I rose. Somehow I felt compelled to investigate this further; there was a small part of me that wondered. Wondered at why Amon would so easily unmask himself to an overpowered child after keeping it such a close-guarded secret all these years from his most loyal subordinate. 

Oh yes, I can admit now that Korra had struck a bit of envy inside of me.

The floor still wobbled a bit, but that was nothing I’d never faced before. Tracking the trio was easy; the two careless brats had left scorch marks all over the walls. That, and the abundance of noise coming from within the hallways did help a good deal. 

I had to stop and catch my breath as I approached the entrance to a warehouse. The marks, the smell of soot- it stopped here. However, it was quiet. Akin to that cliche of being almost too quiet. Quiet except for the soft baritone of a murmur that reverberated into the hallway, incontestably Amon’s. 

There was no yelling Avatar. There was no whimpering firebender. There was just Amon.

Bracing myself, I slipped through the door. 

The Avatar and her boyfriend were contorted in the most grotesque positions, faces strained with pain. Amon stood, towering above them, arms raised and triumphant. 

Perhaps then was when I felt something that was once unwavering inside of me begin to crack at the foundations.

I cried out. Words. That’s all they were, really. Words and accusations and painful truths. 

Everything the Avatar said is true, isn’t it? 

He was a traitor. I had dedicated my entire life to him, and he was a traitor. He had lied to me and manipulated me and had killed me and reshaped me, and after all that he was some water tribe peasant? I could have broken down, right then and there.

I attacked him instead.

It was futile. He had propelled me into a pile of scrap wood and left me for dead. There was no heartfelt declaration of affection. We did not run away together. He had left me for dead, only to be found hours later by one of Beifong’s subordinates.

I eventually awoke, but only after periods of delusion and disorientation, so say the prison infirmary healers. 

I was lucky I had no long-lasting brain damage. I was lucky Katara was around. I was lucky that I was still alive enough to be in this godforsaken prison cell for the rest of my life.

Now all I can do is lie here and reminisce. 

I remember, vaguely, being told of Amon’s demise in the few weeks I was contained. Apparently I had screamed and sobbed and fought and made a huge mess of myself, shouting gibberish like being “in love” and begging to be killed. When they wouldn’t comply to my latter request, I had threatened to kill, which earned me heavy restraints for the following days. 

They had found a left hand and part of a jaw on a beach. Noatak’s. 

My rational mind now tells me that I only loved him because he made me love him. Noatak made people do things and think things they would not normally consider. His charisma was intoxicating and stuck to you like honey. 

Now, in this cell, the only thing I have is him. He and his memories he gave to me and the tribulations we shared. Sometimes I dream about him, and we’re spirits, and we live forever with each other. 

He was damn good at whatever he did to me.

If I lament, then I go insane. If I go insane, then I don’t have enough rational thought to re-live him over and over and over. Maybe one day this unwavering wall between us will shatter, and we’ll see each other in whatever Hell there may be. Noatak and I. 

But that can only come too late.


End file.
